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Thank you for reading my stories ❤️ Keri
love you keriiii
Into the ruined twists of bark, Where time and weather left its mark, Through battering winds and torrid heat Each day a measure of defeat, The children whisper of their pain Their secrets spilled, but not in vain. For every one that fills the tree, That coils tight and can’t break free. Becomes a song of vindication. Of absolution, liberation. Upon the wind that shakes its leaves The pattering raindrops when it grieves. That should you hear while on your travels, Reveals the truth when Juniper unravels.
“He was trained to be a very powerful weapon.” “By … by whom?” “Survivors have gotten word about our community. We’ve already diverted a number of raids. Raids you’ve remained blissfully unaware about behind these walls. We need to build our army. To defend our home.”
He noticeably doesnt answer
“There’s a story about this tree.” Papa’s voice breaks the images passing through my mind, and I turn to find him standing beside me. “They say children wandering the desert would take shelter from the sun inside the trunk of it, and hide here at night from the Ragers. It’s twisted and bent over from carrying the horrible stories of things that happened to those children.”
“I’ve always thought the stars were people we love. It’s weird, but I feel connected to them, somehow.
WAIT WHAT THE FUCK-----
I’m going to be eaten alive! Screams rip from my chest, but they sound distant, not mine. They’re foreign. So terrified and helpless. The Ragers hover over me in a sky of frightening faces staring down at me, swiping at me with their hands that knock me in the head. My leg is lifted into the air, and I kick out to no avail, waiting for the moment when teeth sink into my flesh.
In the time I’ve known him, he’s kept his emotions buried deep below his skin. So much so, that at times, I’ve wondered what I mean to him. The thought of reading his journal frightens me more than never knowing, at all. “Just don’t read it until after I’m gone,” he says. “Some of that shit’s embarrassing.”
“Where’d asshole go, anyway? Off to get his knob shined by some poor naïve cock groupie?” “Shut your fuckin’ mouth. And for your information, he’s out gathering food. For all the cock groupies here, including you.” “I haven’t touched his cock.” “Good for you. They’re handing out medals in the banquet hall, if you’d like to grab one.”
“Don’t let those voices tell you there isn’t goodness in you, because I’ve seen it. I’ve touched it.” “That boy is dead, Wren. He’s hungrier now. Starving.”
I already lost you once, and come war, or the fires of hell, I’m not losing you twice.”
To the rest of the world, you were just a girl. A lonely girl from the other side of that wall. But to me, you’ve always been more than that. The air when I couldn’t breathe. My voice when I couldn’t speak. When I couldn’t feel anything anymore, I felt you. Goddamn, Wren, you were my heart, pumping life into a body that was mostly dead. You were everything to me. You are everything.”
The journal in my lap sits open to a page that I make a point to read daily. A good reminder for my generation, and generations to come. You see the world as it is. I see the world as it isn’t. But what we see individually is molded by our past, our experiences, and our hopes of what’s to come. Always remember that everyone has a story, and you’ll never know hate for another human being as long as you live.
